


The little death

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, Bondage, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Community: merry_smutmas, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-06
Updated: 2005-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shake the book, and this drifts out in a loose stack of paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The little death

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dracopottamus in Merry Smutmas 2005. Many thanks to my long-suffering beta Hannelore, and to Gina for running the exchange.

The river of students flows around Cedric as he walks through the corridor, like they're characters in a dream, not even aware of his presence as they brush easily against him. His mouth is dry, his breath rapid, and he feels removed, as though he's floating a little bit above himself.

"Cedric."

He turns, and Viktor's eyes are glinting at him. He crooks a finger and beckons Cedric around the corner, and Cedric follows without a word, his heartbeat picking up.

Viktor makes one final glance around to see that no one's paying attention, and then pulls Cedric into the empty broom cupboard and kisses him. Cedric kisses back with shameful desperation (even the shame arouses him), and Viktor's hand at his lower back every touch burns, makes him want to press in, to rub and fuck. Viktor places a hand on Cedric's shoulder and pushes him down.

The stone floor is rough against Cedric's knees, and he's breathing heavily through his nose as he sucks, taking in the scent. Not long until come spurts thick and salty into Cedric's mouth, and he swallows hard, holding the base of Viktor's cock. Viktor's hand grips his shoulder like a claw, and he grunts with his mouth closed.

Cedric pulls gently away and presses his cheek against Viktor's sharp warm hip. Listens to both of them breathing in the closed space, and the muffled footfalls of the last few students hurrying to class just outside the door.

"Viktor," he says, "may I please come now?"

He peers up, and Viktor looks like he's considering the request. In the pause Cedric's mind feverishly turns over the two outcomes — _yes_ , and Cedric's rubbing off desperately here in the cupboard, or _no_ , and having to wait, wait, go to class and pretend nothing is amiss, sit still and not squirm for relief. He doesn't know which excites him more, and he's going mad waiting for the reply.

"Not yet," Viktor says, and his over-pronounced T's sound wet in the quiet.

Cedric shudders deeply, closing his eyes, but says nothing more.

His next class is Charms, and he will sit there with the taste of come lingering in his mouth, upright and obediently taking notes.

*

It was the Friday before the first task when it started. Cedric was on his way down the fifth floor hallway, a towel held under his arm, when he heard the flat-footed slap slap slap of Krum coming up behind him.

He'd seen Krum around, hunched over the dinner table or a library book, heard traces of his voice in the corridors, accent crumbling his words. But he'd never really talked to him before.

"Diggory," he said, and there was a little of that starstruck flutter in Cedric's stomach, but when he turned he made sure to look calm, confident. No sense letting the competition get too full of themselves.

"Krum," he said lightly, smiling just enough to be friendly. "Lost, are you?"

"No," Krum said as he caught up to him, gazing up at the high-vaulted ceiling. "I just enjoy to... explore this place in the evening. Many floors, many portraits to look at. I saw you, I thought to say hello."

Cedric raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. "Oh. Well— yes, of course. It's a bit funny, isn't it... This is meant to promote international cooperation, this tournament, but we barely know one another. The four of us, I mean." He rubbed his elbow, feeling that he was rambling.

Krum nodded. "Vot are you...?" He pointed to the towel tucked under Cedric's arm.

"Oh, this. I was just going to take a bath."

"A bath?" Krum gave a puzzled frown.

"Yeah, I'm a prefect, we get a private bathroom. Just over there." He gestured down the corridor.

"Ah..." Krum looked as though understanding had dawned. "Perhaps... perhaps I am coming with you?"

Cedric's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what he'd said to bring that on, but maybe it was customary in Bulgaria, and he didn't want to offend. International cooperation. Hospitality, right?

"Sure," Cedric said. "I mean, of course."

The ornate bathroom seemed to impress Krum; Cedric undressed and slid into the water while he was turned away, peering at the slumbering mermaid portraits. He found the tap for shampoo and started vigourously washing his hair, pretending not to be watching out of the corner of his eye as Krum casually shrugged out of his robes and folded them up beside Cedric's.

It wasn't as though Cedric hadn't showered with other blokes in the locker room hundreds of times, but he found himself strangely modest now, staying turned towards the stream of bubbly soap, unusually aware of the sensation of his penis floating free in the warm water. Krum took a couple of backstroke laps, the deep splashes of his hands and feet echoing through the steamy room.

When Cedric had finished washing, he moved to sit in the shallow end, enjoying the hot soak after so many windy fall days.

After another lap or two, Krum came and sat beside him — closer than Cedric would have, but that was just continental, different sense of personal space. He pushed his hair back out of his face with both hands, showing his widow's peak. The water swelled and ebbed as Krum settled himself, tall enough to rest his elbows on the edge of the pool as he sat. The hair on his forearms was slicked down wet. He let out a long sigh, and when he stretched his legs, his foot slid along Cedric's calf, releasing the little bubbles that had collected there. Could have been an accident, of course... Cedric didn't pull away.

"This is nice," Krum murmured, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool. "Hogwarts is very nice. I vonder if you know it, because you are accustomed. I haff not had hot bath like this in a long time." His foot was still resting idly against Cedric's ankle.

"No? I'd think you'd want to, living up north..." The wavy green outline of Krum's body underneath the water kept catching Cedric's eye.

"At Durmstrang, there is sauna. Hot, but dry. Sweat for hours. And when finished, in vinter, we run out and jump into the snow."

Cedric breathed a laugh. "In the snow? You never."

Krum raised his hands in a sort of shrug, still leaning back against the poolside. "Is truth! In the snow. No clothes. Skin is hot from sauna, feels very good, melting snow like ice..." He opened his eyes. "It snows here in vinter? I can prove it to you then." He splashed the water with his palm.

The steam and hot water were making Cedric relaxed and fuzzy-headed, and it was sounding less silly by the minute, the idea of jumping naked into the snow with Viktor Krum, seeing his pale skin turn red with cold, sucking in the sharp winter air. There was the start of a tingle down between his legs, and he shifted in the water, hoping not to embarrass himself in front of Krum.

"It's too bad we won't be having any Quidditch while you're here," Cedric said quickly — yes, changing the subject to sport, good idea. "You really could have shown us a thing or two."

"Do you play?"

"Well... captain of the House team, actually," Cedric admitted.

"I am sorry I will not haff a chance to see you play."

"Me?" Cedric laughed in surprise. "I'm no slouch, but I'm not anywhere near as good..."

Krum waved him off. "Better, vorse... I like the game. Too much pride is no good, make you careless."

"Have to agree there." Cedric nodded, sitting up straighter. "Shouldn't be all prancing about talking yourself up. It's about practice, learning from other players... discipline, you know?"

"Yes, exactly," Krum said, enthusiasm lighting up his dark eyes. "Discipline. At Durmstrang, every day we get up to practise before it is light out. Now I can play even in the dark, I listen for the Snitch, I hear the Beaters breathing."

"Right," Cedric said, impressed in spite of himself. "And you have to work to get there."

"Yes," Krum said. "Discipline. Very important. Also, sometimes... Headmaster, he says it is good, before an important match, not to have... the..." He searched for the right words, gazing up as though they might be floating somewhere above the bubbly water. "Not to have release of the body. Use the energy, the desire, fly better and win."

Cedric wasn't sure at first that he'd understood. Krum wasn't _actually_ saying...

"You mean release like... _release?_ " Cedric tried to gesture, but nothing seemed adequate; he was sure he was flushed with embarrassment.

"Yes." Krum's thick eyebrows knitted as he tried to ensure Cedric had understood. "Oh, how do you say... not to make love. Or touch. Touch yourself."

Cedric couldn't believe he'd just heard Krum's voice rumble those words, _touch yourself_ , and he draws up his legs a little, hoping Krum won't notice...

"Do you, er... do you believe that? I mean, does it really help?"

Oh god. Krum's eyes kept drifting down to Cedric's lap — he must have seen. "Maybe. But I am thinking sometimes it is better to be... relaxed."

"Do you think so?" Cedric tried to sound nonchalant, as though he talked about this sort of thing all the time, but his voice came out sounding thin and nervous.

"Yes," Krum said, and he was sidling closer to Cedric in the water, his hand now resting on Cedric's shoulder. "Better to enjoy yourself. Feel good for the competition."

And he leaned in close, and Cedric jerked back before their mouths touched. "I— I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"Not vot?" Krum asked, looking genuinely curious, but before Cedric could come up with an answer, Krum's hand was at the back of Cedric's head, and they were kissing.

Cedric had kissed girls before, chaste kisses huddled behind the greenhouse, afraid to do more — but this was _more_ , Krum's tongue in his mouth and beaky nose nudging against Cedric's cheek, hips bumping together, naked in the water. All wet sounds in the otherwise quiet marble room — their lips, and the sound of water slopping up against the side of the bath with their movements.

Cedric felt Krum's hand find his chest under the water, then slip down to his stomach, and Cedric pulled back, gasping a little, his heart in his ears. "Er— Viktor—" The name felt odd in his mouth. "Someone might come in. I could get in trouble. We can't..." He wasn't quite sure _what_ it was they couldn't do, but Krum's hand was still resting on his stomach, dangerously close to his now-hard prick.

Krum frowned; his hand drew back a bit, just the fingertips brushing above Cedric's navel. "Do you really think someone might come in?"

Cedric wavered. He wanted to be kissing that frowning mouth again, and more than that — Krum would know what, he felt sure. He felt suddenly full of a hunger to be _touched_ , everywhere, and when he spoke it felt like he was hearing his own voice from far away, like when he had too much wine.

"No... probably no one'll come in."

"Good," Krum said, and kissed him again.

Krum's hand slid easily along Cedric's prick in the water, first tentative fingertips and then a firmer grip. Cedric's hips jerked up involuntarily into the touch, and he found he couldn't keep a groan from his throat.

God, it was embarrassing how quick it was, not more than a minute or two of smooth stroking and Krum's mouth on his own before he thrust up with a cry and came, shooting into the water. With the last shudders, he realised he was hanging onto Krum's arm. He let go with a sheepish smile, unsure of what one was meant to say at a moment like this.

"Um..."

"Maybe soon you will learn a little more discipline, hm?" Krum was smiling crookedly. "Vould you like to... to do to me?"

Cedric looked down, and saw through the rippling water that Krum was holding his own prick, his pale thighs cocked well apart.

"All right," Cedric heard himself say, head still swimming and not at all sure that he wouldn't wake up any minute with sticky sheets.

He shifted over and felt his way along Krum's hip — it was hard to see exactly where things were, under the water — and found his prick, hot and pulsing beneath his palm. He tried a smooth, slow stroke, and was rewarded by a rumbling groan deep in Krum's chest. He sighed and closed his eyes, sinking down further in to the bath, spreading his legs wider. Then there was that twitch at the base of his cock, and Krum's legs jerked up, nearly knocking Cedric's grip loose as he came, strings of white suspended slow-motion in the water as Cedric watched.

When they finally got out of the bath, Cedric's fingers and toes were wrinkled. They toweled off and got dressed, and Cedric's eyes kept going to Krum's lower back, his heels, his hands, his hair tangling as he leaned down to pull on his shoes. Cedric didn't know how he'd ever be able to stop staring at him again.

"You haff a holiday weekend now, yes?" Krum was rubbing his hair with Cedric's towel. "Perhaps we can meet. Go down to the village. I vould like to see it."

Cedric agreed that he would like that very much.

*

As they walked down to Hogsmeade, Cedric noticed the girls stopping to point and giggle as they always did, but Viktor trudged onward, watching his feet, hair whipped across his face by the wind. Cedric kept glancing over at him, rubbing his hands together and wondering how he was supposed to act. The sun came out for a minute, turning the grass yellow like summer, and briefly making Cedric feel like he had too many clothes on.

They went poking around the shops, but it was too crowded, and Cedric was relieved when Viktor suggested they get something to eat.

Mist rose from Cedric's ice water as he drank, comfortable in the thickly padded corner booth. They talked about sport, and Cedric watched his hands, his mouth. Viktor's voice wasn't just deep, but pronounced low in his mouth, tongue low and lips pouting, frowning. The busy chatter at other tables and the hiss of grilling from the kitchen concealed their conversation; he had to keep leaning in to make out Viktor's low rumble.

Cedric occasionally fancied that he'd just imagined the whole thing, they hadn't really — done _that_ in the Prefects' bathroom, for God's sake. But then some little movement of Viktor's hand or an inflection in his words would catch his attention, and there was no denying it.

When they emerged, the sun had gone down, and the red and yellow lights illuminated all the shop fronts.

"How very pretty," Viktor said carefully; Cedric imagined it as a phrase learnt from a textbook. Cedric nodded and put his hands deep down into his coat pockets, shrugging up his shoulders. He was putting together how he'd phrase it — _Well, it is getting a bit late_. Practising it in his mind so he wouldn't sound disappointed.

But instead Viktor said: "Vould you be in trouble if you stayed here overnight?"

Cedric turned, startled, and Viktor was looking back at him frankly, standing closer than Cedric had thought. A blowing leaf caught on Cedric's sleeve, and Viktor brushed it casually away; not a caress, but it almost felt like one, and Cedric's face was warm in the cold air.

"There is... inn, here, yes? I haff some money."

"Yes," Cedric said, his heart beating faster. "I mean— yes." And he smiles.

*

"We must study," Viktor said to the innkeeper with an earnest frown as she handed him the key to the room. "It is so noisy at the school. Impossible to concentrate."

Cedric was impressed at how easily Viktor told the lie, and wondered if it came from practice (how many times had he done this?) but stopped caring about that when the door clicked shut behind them and Viktor started to kiss him.

Viktor showed Cedric how to fuck. Cedric was surprised that Viktor wanted that, but he wasn't complaining when Viktor straddled him and sunk down on his cock — the _heat_ of him, the tight-gripping pressure as Cedric found himself _screwing_ for the first time. Viktor's heavy bones atop him, and he watched Viktor rub his own prick as he pushed down onto Cedric's. Pleasure in his half-lidded eyes, his dark open mouth. Cedric could smell Viktor's sharp arousal, see the wetness at the tip of his cock as he moved the skin up and down.

"Touch me," Viktor said.

"Okay," Cedric breathed. "Like—"

"Here—" said Viktor, and when Cedric moved his hand to meet Viktor's their fingers tangled together for a moment, making Cedric let out a nervous laugh. Viktor's rough fingers and the hot smooth skin of his prick, and the coarse dark hair above. Viktor put Cedric's hand where he wanted it, showed him the pressure, the speed. (He made it look so easy to ask for what he wanted.) His hitching grunt of pleasure when Cedric got it right—

Cedric wasn't sure at first whether he could come this way, on his back with Viktor grinding down against him, just shifts of weight, but then they found a rhythm of short, humping thrusts and he was finishing all too soon, coming hard inside him, gripping his hip and digging in his fingernails.

They didn't leave the room for the rest of the weekend.

Cedric had come so many times in his own hands or rubbing face down against the mattress, biting his lip and letting out no more than a grunt and a sigh. And he'd thought _that_ was coming! But this was blowing apart and letting himself make noise because Viktor did, even though he was embarrassed to. Making the mattress creak and thump rhythmically against the wall as he screwed Viktor braced against the headboard, and laughing — _laughing_ when the people in the next room pounded their fists against the wall.

They lay long in bed on Sunday morning, being warm under the blankets the way you only can when the morning's near freezing, the hard chill coming off the window glass. Viktor finally got up to light the fire around noon, and Cedric watched with the quilt pulled up to his chin, watched Viktor crouching naked on the hearthstones prodding at the embers with his wand. Cedric's eyes caught on Viktor's reddish bollocks swaying slightly between his thighs, and on the taut stretched soles of his feet.

When the room had grown warm, they pushed the blankets down and Cedric found he wanted to touch even more, to feel the tremble and twitch of Viktor's skin. They could see each other clearly for the first time in the yellow light filtered through the curtains. Viktor seemed to have no meat on him, all skin and thick bone, heavy joints. His hands and feet and knees were all dark and mottled purple, and his belly and the insides of his forearms white like paper, blue veins just under the surface. Cedric could see all his ribs. Sharp hipbones; Cedric's fingers traced the shallow dip there. Trailed his forefinger lightly up the inside of Viktor's arm, from elbow to wrist. Viktor let him do it, watching hawk-eyed; his half-curled fingers twitched.

Cedric faintly realised that he'd almost forgot about the first task — it seemed immeasurably far away, hazy with distance, and all that mattered was right here, up close. Fingertips and scent.

Viktor was kissing him, his mouth and his jaw and his neck, and without stopping he drew Cedric's arms from around his waist and raised them up to the metalwork at the head of the bed.

"Hold that," Viktor said as he moved down Cedric's body, and Cedric did, gripping the rough metal bars and breathing through his mouth, tilting his chin down to watch where Viktor was going.

Viktor ran his fingernails lightly down Cedric's sides. Touched him lightly all over, palms and fingertips (swollen knuckles). Seemed fascinated by every part of him, the crease of his thigh, the tickly curve of his ribcage. He ran his fingertip under the slight swell of Cedric's belly, and Cedric would never have guessed how sensitive he was there.

By the time he got to Cedric's cock it was aching for attention, and finally Viktor sucked him — first time — and Cedric wanted to grab Viktor's head, fist into his hair, but he did as he'd been told and gripped the headboard harder, his arms tautening. He found himself squeezing Viktor's shoulders with his thighs, unable to keep them spread, even though it felt so good that way.

And Viktor teased him, made love to him until he was gasping-close, then drew back to kiss his neck, rub his belly. Dragging it out. The hair beneath Cedric's navel pinched slightly under Viktor's palm.

"Please," finally slipped through Cedric's lips, as he twisted in the sweaty sheets. "Please... god, I can't—" And just that _taste_ of begging opened something up inside him and he wanted more reasons to beg, a thousand more.

"Yes..." Viktor murmured, as though that was what he'd been waiting for, as though it were _permission_ , and then he sucked hard and Cedric came, jerking like a puppet.

He finished and fell back, chest rising and falling rapidly, mouth hanging open. He twisted his hips up and let them fall again, wringing out the last bit of pleasure.

Viktor crawled up the bed and lay down beside him, gazed at his face. Strange to be looked at now, after having climaxed so hard, still breathless.

"What?"

"You enjoyed this?"

"Yes..."

"Vould you like to do it for... longer time?"

Cedric hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"You like to wait?" Viktor said, running his palm over Cedric's bare stomach. "You like to beg me?"

They looked at each other for a moment, Cedric's breathing slowing, shallowing. "Yes," he said, and it was so very quiet in the stillness of the room.

"Then perhaps now I... make you wait."

"For how long?"

"As long as I say...?" There was a question in it.

"All right," Cedric breathed through a bit of an embarrassed laugh, and Viktor kissed him, like sealing a bargain.

*

On Sunday afternoon they walked back up to the school, and Cedric felt strangely aware of the cold air between them, the fact that he couldn't touch Viktor anymore.

He was sure someone would ask where he'd been, but no one did.

*

On Monday, Harry told him about the dragons. Cedric wondered how long Viktor had known.

*

Cedric hasn't come since then.

He walks out of the broom cupboard, knees and jaw aching, and they go their separate ways. He runs his tongue down along his gums and the taste of Viktor's come is there afresh.

In his next class, he sits with his hands folded on his desk, pretending to listen to Flitwick talk about Attraction Charms and ignoring the hard-on under his robes.

*

The week after that, McGonagall announces the Yule Ball.

Cedric and Viktor sit outside, backs against the stone wall, where no one would go when it's this cold, not even reporters.

"Were you going to ask someone? To the ball, I mean."

Viktor picks up one of his books and hefts it idly in his hand. "There is someone. But I do not know if she will say yes."

"Oh?" The breeze picks up, cold and hard against Cedric's cheek. "Who's that?"

"A Hogwarts girl. She is... lovely. But so young." Viktor squints out onto the white horizon with a look of determination. "I will vait for her."

"You haven't done anything with her?"

"I haff kissed her," he admits. "But to touch her? No. She is too young."

"Well, aren't you the gentleman," Cedric says, and it's killing him to have Viktor _right there_ but not able to touch him, to press against his body heat.

Viktor glances round, then puts his hand under Cedric's chin and kisses him.

Cedric's eyes fall shut, and his hips press up— He pulls away, though he doesn't want to. "I can't, it's—" _I want you_ , but he can't say that.

Viktor smiles and kisses him again, slowly and thoroughly, and Cedric is hard again by the end of it, icy wind outside and burning within.

"You cannot take any more? I vould kiss you again... I vould sit here until we vould be missed."

"Please," Cedric says, almost lost in the wind, and he doesn't know whether it's please-yes or please-no.

"And you? Who vill you ask?" Viktor looks at him easily, as though there's nothing unusual in the question, and Cedric is startled into telling the truth.

"I— I was going to ask Cho Chang. That is, if you..." _give me permission_ "...don't mind."

"Of course." Viktor smiles. "You vill dance with her. Hold her close. Feel her dress under your hands. The scent of her hair." He slides his hand against the nape of Cedric's neck. "You may... kiss her." He leans in and brushes his mouth against Cedric's jaw, his voice quieting. "But you will know that you are not allowed to come until you are with me."

*

On the night of the ball, Cho is beautiful.

Swaying with her in his arms, the softness of her dress under his hands. Half delirious with want.

He sees Viktor with Hermione Granger, and knows he'll be gentle — gentlemanly — with the young girl. Won't try to touch her breasts, or between her legs. He watches Viktor place a chaste kiss on Granger's flushing cheek, chalices glittering along the High Table behind them.

*

"Did you like to dance vith her?"

"Yes, Viktor." He's on his knees, still in his dress robes.

"You liked to touch her?" Viktor moves behind him and reaches down to undo his tie, slides it out from around his neck.

Cedric's eyes close with a shiver. "Yes."

Viktor undoes the fastenings of Cedric's cloak and slides his hands down under his robes, running his palms over Cedric's collarbones. "You liked to kiss her?"

"Yes..."

"Do you like to look at me?"

Cedric looks up, and Viktor has moved around to stand in front of him. He takes Cedric's chin and nudges it upward, gazing at him like one might do a prize stallion.

"Yes," Cedric says. His palms and lips itch to touch, to grab, to kiss.

"Are you very..." Words seem to fail him. Viktor is slightly breathless, his chest rising and falling.

"Yes," Cedric answers anyway.

"Show me."

And at that word, that permission, Cedric is all over him, more animal than he could ever have imagined, grabbing, sucking, _fucking_. He pours himself out into Viktor with all the pent-up energy of the past weeks, and the harder he fucks him the stronger Viktor's hands are on Cedric's hips, his sides, his arse, holding him, always in control.

The climax burns up through him like fire through dry paper, quick and hot. He feels the wet splash of Viktor's orgasm against his stomach, and fingernails biting into his hips. It's over all too soon, such a short reward after such a long wait.

Afterwards, they're lying there and Viktor runs his fingertip idly over Cedric's lips.

"Your mouth is very beautiful," he says. "This makes it difficult to resist you."

Cedric laughs in embarrassment, looking away. "Oh, is that what it is."

"Yes," Viktor says. "But I think I can try to resist you for a while again."

Cedric looks, and Viktor is wearing an expression of feigned seriousness, trying not to smile.

Cedric hesitates before he smiles too.

*

It doesn't seem to take as long this time to build up to the now-familiar ache. Cedric lies in bed staring up at the black curtains, knowing he mustn't touch himself. Heart nudging palpably in his chest with every beat.

He leans under the bed and picks up his dirty book out of habit, even though he shouldn't — he's only torturing himself. He found the book last year in the basement of his parents' house; hid it in a stack of Charms texts. He's wanked over it so many times now that even the mouldy old-book smell of it arouses him. His favourite scenes are marked, the words familiar ( _her nipples hard as buttons and shell-pink_ ).

Cho. She is soft and sweet-smelling, her slender waist under his hands, the thick taste of lipstick when they kiss. ( _The pretty folded orchid of her sex, pouting and smelling of salt_ , says his dirty book.) And now it's him pulling back, saying it's too fast, too soon. Even though he dreams of sliding his cock into her, wet and warm. Having _both_ of them, Cho's slender calf and Viktor's heavy, rough hands, black hair touching and tangling — Cedric can't think of that, he'll have to come, he knows it. He shifts his hips; it's agony ( _sweet agony_ ) forcing himself not to rub his half-hard cock through the bedclothes.

He pages idly through his book again, the leaves dry under his fingertips. It was translated from the French, and there are footnotes. La petite mort — the little death. Climax.

*

On his way down to the greenhouses he sees Viktor at the lake. Shapeless black swim trunks contrast with the hard curve of his body as he springs off the bow of his ship and dives like a seal into the frigid water. Viktor is always more graceful when he's not touching the ground.

*

Viktor doesn't wait as long this time to invite Cedric for another Hogsmeade weekend, but it turns out that he has something different in mind.

Cedric's wrists are bound above his head, and Viktor is pushing his knees up to his chest and fastening straps that lead from his ankles so they stay there, his arse exposed and laying his erection against his creased belly, between his spread thighs. Stretched. His nipples are twisted-hard; he'd rub them if he could. His hair is wet from the shower, and dampening the pillow under his head.

Viktor sits on the bed looking at him for a while. Heavy brows, studying him.

Cedric is beginning to feel he'll burst if he doesn't say anything, and finally: "What are you going to do?"

Viktor runs a finger lightly from Cedric's arse cheek to the underside of his thigh. Cedric shifts a little, and pressing against the tension of his bonds only reminds him of how helpless he is.

"You are so impatient," Viktor says. "We play a game. I vill, with my tongue..." He draws his finger up the underside of Cedric's cock. "...five times. And you count them." He gives Cedric a little sidelong-doubting look. "You can do this?"

"All right..." Cedric feels the mattress shifting as Viktor gets onto his hands and knees, leans down over him. Viktor's arms brush against the outside of his hips as he braces his hands there.

The first lick is agonisingly slow, from the middle of the underside, over the unbearably sensitive beginning of the head, and to the edge of his foreskin, just brushing the exposed tip. A long, involuntary shudder arches Cedric's back, curls his toes.

"Mmm..." He opens his eyes to see why Viktor's stopped, and the expectant look reminds him. "Oh— er. One."

Viktor nods, and does it again, starting a bit lower this time, just as slowly. Disciplined.

"Two," Cedric sighs, feeling silly, but it feels good, and he doesn't want Viktor to stop.

Three. Up the side of his erection, pressing it to the left, sloppy with saliva that drips down onto his belly. No faster.

Four. Starts as a wet kiss at the base of his cock, and then a broad lick; Cedric strains his neck forward and watches as Viktor does it, then flops back.

Once more, and _five_ escapes Cedric's lips as a puff of sighing air.

"Good," Viktor says, sitting up and rubbing his knuckles idly against Cedric's arse, "good boy. Now you count to ten. Slow."

So Cedric does, and Viktor watches him the whole time, hawkblack eyes. Cedric's left foot is close at hand, strapped up by Viktor's head, and while Cedric counts Viktor caresses it, still wrinkled and damp from the shower. Leans over and kisses the side of the arch; his tongue feels tender and almost ticklish there. Never stops watching.

When Cedric has finished counting the seconds, Viktor nods and says, "Now is my turn again. You count fifteen this time."

And he leans down when Viktor's mouth comes _back_ to his cock after the waiting, the needing, it shudders all deep down through his belly and curls his toes; he groans and jerks involuntarily. Viktor gives him a light reminding slap on the arse—

"One!" Cedric groans. "Oh god... Two, three—"

"Not as fast."

He feels the delicate vibrations when Viktor talks with his mouth against his prick, and shoves his hips up towards that tongue, those lips. He counts, and the pressure is building, he's going to get there — and he gets to fifteen, and Viktor stops again. Cedric presses his hips up as hard as he can, that sinking, tightening feeling.

"I forget one rule," Viktor says, breathing hard, his mouth soft and red. "If you come, you lose. Then... maybe I punish you, hm?"

"Oh god—"

"You're not counting. Count to ten. Like before, slow." Viktor's mouth is everything, his voice, his tongue. Cedric watches it as it moves.

Cedric has no choice (he wants no choice) so he counts again while Viktor watches. Around five Viktor leans forward and pinches Cedric's nipples, pulls at them idly. Cedric jerks, groans, but doesn't stop. He counts to ten.

Viktor goes back to his cock for twenty. Cedric doesn't know how he's stopping himself from coming, even though it's _right there_ all built up inside.

He makes Cedric count ten again, watching him and lightly rubbing his aching bollocks, before he goes back.

When he stops after thirty:

"Oh god, Viktor, don't stop. Please let me come."

"The ten seconds do not start until you start counting them," Viktor says, and there's a fire at the bottom of his eyes, an excitement that scares Cedric a little. He struggles, dragging at his bonds, and his legs are aching, but he _doesn't_ want to stop — doesn't know what he wants anymore, and is so glad the decision's out of his control.

"If you stop counting, maybe I lose track, start all over, hm?"

"No! God, no... One."

When he goes back, Viktor tells him to count forty, and it's taking all his breath just to do that, it's taking everything not to come with Viktor's tongue sliding around the crown of his prick.

It's so slow, and Cedric keeps thinking oh god he's only an eighth of the way through, oh god only a quarter, but when he realises they're only half done — something _changes_ , and he stops struggling, goes limp, helpless, _feeling_.

He doesn't want to beg anymore, just wants to be used and controlled, and when he feels _Please_ escape his lips, it's not _Please let me come_ but _Please use me, control me, have your way until it no longer pleases you_.

When Viktor looks into his eyes, he's trembling a little, desperation equal to Cedric's own.

"Yes," Viktor says, and he doesn't even ask Cedric what he wants. "Now." And Cedric's coming even before Viktor starts sucking him again, and it goes on and on and strips him dry, lets out everything, everything, helpless and falling.

Viktor undoes his bonds, and Cedric falls back limp, breathless. Can't move, can't see. His chest feels empty, like he can never get enough air.

He feels Viktor's hand on his head, ruffling his sweaty hair. "Good boy," Viktor says. "You haff been good for me."

Cedric is shocked at how good it feels to hear that, like a praised dog.

He feels Viktor move off the bed, and looks over, still gasping for breath. Viktor is rubbing his jaw like his mouth is tired, but when he sees Cedric looking, he smiles.

Cedric sits up shakily. He rubs his shoulders, stretches his legs. There's a strange emptiness in his chest, like guilt.

"I guess this is the way you deal with competition up at Durmstrang," he says, rubbing his ankles.

Viktor stops and looks back at him, startled. Cedric finds himself startled too; he doesn't know why he said that.

"You think I am trying to make you lose?" Viktor says, knitting his heavy brows. "You mean this?"

Cedric didn't think he meant it until Viktor says that, but suddenly he realises that he does. "The notion had crossed my mind, yeah."

Viktor draws himself up with a glower, his jaw set. "This is not true, vot you haff said."

Part of Cedric wants to take it back, but then there's this sort of _fear_ that he doesn't quite recognise, and he can't. "Well... I'm sorry."

Viktor spreads his hands, looking more stunned than anything else. "Vell," he says, picking up his clothes from the floor. "Then perhaps I should go."

Cedric doesn't say anything, his stomach twisting as he watches Viktor dress.

As he's leaving, Viktor shakes his head slowly.

"I do not understand the British," he says.

*

Cedric wins the second task.

Hermione Granger is the thing Viktor would miss most.

*

The spring is like a long, hot night. Never sure if he's slept or not.

Cho's head rests on his shoulder as they sit under the trees on the far side of the lake. She sighs, fiddling with the petals of a new pink crocus. He feels her crane her neck to look up at him, and after a moment he blinks his dry eyes and looks back.

"I love you," she says expectantly, proddingly.

He kisses her. She's not wearing lipstick today, and her mouth tastes sweeter for it. They kiss in slow-motion as he's seen other couples do, eyes closed and lost in some fantasy of romance.

She shifts her body down in a way that feels inviting, and his hand goes thoughtlessly to her hip — to stop her, maybe. The fabric of her skirt is crumpled up at the warm curve that leads to her waist; he smoothes it, and she hums slightly into his mouth.

It will be him telling her that he loves her too but he wants to wait, that it should _mean_ something.

He doesn't really know what it means.

*

That night it takes him a couple hours of staring at the ceiling to remember he can touch himself.

His prick is hot and tender under his fingertips; his hips jerk at the first stroke. He finds himself uncomfortably unsure of what to think about, his mind restlessly turning from one thing to the next:

The rumpled fabric of Cho's skirt, one smooth leg sliding against the other, spreading apart—

Viktor's mouth. Hermione Granger, though he knows Viktor wouldn't really. ("I will vait for her.")

Cedric stops stroking himself and grips the base of his cock, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. All these stray thought distracting him.

When he finishes, he still feels like he's not quite finished. He rolls over on his side and shuts his eyes tightly, chalking it up to worry about the maze.

*

On the day, the green ivy walls of the labyrinth tower above them, smelling of fresh earth. The crowd roars behind them, but sounds far away somehow. Cedric's mouth is dry, his breathing rapid.

He looks over at Viktor's tight, concentrating face, and when Viktor looks back he recognises the lack of hardness in his eyes. For a wild instant Cedric imagines Viktor asking him casually if he's had a wank recently, in front of all these people.

"Good luck," Cedric says, and sticks out his hand.

Viktor shakes it with a tight nod, and something inside Cedric relaxes. This is it, this is the time, and he accepts it.

The starting gun fires, and Potter scrambles forward like a startled deer, and Cedric bolts after him into the maze.

**Author's Note:**

> When reposting this fic, I realized I had never given it a summary, so I used something Dracopottamus wrote back in 2005: "This feels like a secret history. Almost like you could shake the book, and this would quietly drift out in a loose stack of paper."


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